After El Greco had gotten sick of the gang taking up space in his operating room, they decided on going back to Joe's apartment. Getting back to Joe's in one piece meant taking a detour to avoid the swarm of police officers taking up space in the streets for their investigation. Leon glanced through the car window before ducking into his seat to remain out of sight.
"You'll be okay." Henry reassured him. "As long as you're with us, no cop is gonna throw you in the back of their squad car."
Leon sat back up once they were out of plain view. "What happens when today's authorities apprehend their citizens?"
"First," Vito spoke up, his eyes fixed on the road, "they approach you after you've done something wrong, and tell you 'So and So, you're under arrest for this and that' before citing your Miranda rights and putting you in cuffs."
"Miranda rights?" Leon blinked.
"They're a fixed set of guidelines that help you remain within your rights," Vito explained, "even as you're being arrested and driven to jail. You get an attorney, whether it's your own or court-appointed, to defend you in trial and help you get your story straight prior to appearing before the judge."
"What else do they do?" Leon began to worry.
"Depending on what you're being pinched for," Vito continued, "they'll take you into booking. This is where you're finger-printed, have your mugshot taken, and - on rare occasions - get a cavity search done on you."
"Cavity search?" Leon gasped. "Is that what I think it is?"
"Yup." Vito's eyebrows creased. "It's not pleasant at all. It fucking sucks, actually. Makes you feel inhuman, like you're just some treasure chest they want to poke around in. See if you're bringing in heroin balloons or prison shivs. Why anyone would shove a knife up their own ass is beyond me."
Leon slouched into the back seat, crossing his arms with discomfort. Seeing the anxiety rise off of him, Henry put a hand on his thigh for a brief moment, prompting the hunter to glance his way.
"You're not gonna get pinched." Henry promised him. "As long as you keep your head down and stay in the shadows, the cops aren't gonna find you. Just make sure you conceal, you know… what's that called again?"
"The Vampire Killer?"
"Yeah. That's a dead giveaway."
"So, why a whip?" Joe asked out of the blue. "You could've had a sword, a mace, a flail, or even an ax. But a whip? That would've been my last option."
"It was given to me by another person with a vendetta towards vampires." Leon explained. "I had to give up my sword and title when I left the clergy. I planned to pick up the first weapon I found on my quest, until I met an old man named Rinaldo. He lived in a cabin below the entrance of a powerful vampire's castle, only to sell potions and elixirs to travelers. These items were reserved for those who sought to defeat the vampire and end his control over the forest."
"Rinaldo gave you the whip?" Joe wanted to clarify.
"Yes." Leon nodded. "While the whip was still powerful, it was missing an element; in this case, a human soul tainted with the vampire's curse."
"Did you get the soul?" Joe continued pushing, sounding like a kid trying to rush their friend along through an important story. "How'd ya get the soul?"
"Joe, c'mon." Henry tried to pause him.
"It's okay." Leon settled the two. "I don't mind talking about it. The soul belonged to a woman I was engaged to - her name was Sara. Her having been kidnapped on our wedding day was what sent me on my fateful quest."
"Did she get bit?" Joe asked bluntly, Henry scoffing at the way he asked this question.
Leon solemnly nodded. "In the end, she gave her life for the fight against vampires, binding her soul with my weapon so that I could continue that fight for her."
"How the fuck did you do that?" Joe continued. Henry's forehead met his hand with second-hand embarrassment as he tried not to scold the other man for his unseemly inquisition.
"It was a binding spell performed by Rinaldo." Leon explained shortly. "It assured her soul's pathway into the whip. The power of the Vampire Killer is merciless, but within its fibers, is a kind spirit who deserved a longer life."
"Shit," Joe's tone shifted to a more melancholic nature, "that's heavy."
"I'm still healing." Leon admitted. "I don't expect the pain to go away, but I have to be strong. If anything, losing my best friend was more painful above all else."
"What happened to him?" Joe continued to pry Leon for his backstory.
Leon's voice lowered. "He used me, my betrothed, and Rinaldo just to get what he wanted - a powerful vampire's soul. At first, it felt like my heart had been torn from my ribcage, but now I'm just fed up. Fed up with him, and the fact he and I must coexist on the same astrological plane."
Vito's and Joe's eyes were met with a dash of sympathy. Henry wordlessly engaged with the addition to Leon's story, remorse coming through his stoic aspects.
"I knew he ached from the death of his beloved," the hunter continued, "but that gave him no reason to do what he did. And now…" He lifted his head, staring forward with contempt. "...he calls himself Dracula."
The atmosphere within the car fell in silence. Henry turned to Leon with surprise in his features while Vito and Joe exchanged glances, only for Joe's face to contort with humor, Vito doing the same.
"Pfft, Dracula? " Joe snorted. "You're tellin' me you were friends with Bram Stoker's Dracula ? The fuckin' character from the films? You talkin' about him ?"
"I don't know where this caricature came from," Leon shrugged, "but if this playwright depiction of Dracula is how you envision him, then fine. I still assure you, he's not what you would expect; from once existing as a human, to walking the earth's surface as a demon from Hell, Dracula shows no mercy for his victims."
Joe pressed his lips together contemplatively, Vito staring forward to not allow his judgment to seep through. Henry was the first to break the brief silence before any of the men would continue to give Leon grief for having brought up the notorious vampire.
"Right now," he spoke, "we need a night to get our bearings straight. Today was almost a shitshow, and the day after is going to be an even greater shitshow. It's only gonna stack up until the end of the week when we have to give Bruno his hefty chunk of change back."
"You sayin' you wanna come over and party?" Joe flashed a smile at Henry through his rear-view mirror. "I restocked the beer in my fridge. You should come take a load off with us."
Leon glanced at the man beside him to await his answer. The older gentleman tilted his head downward for a brief moment, before looking back up at Joe with exacerbation.
"Fuck it, fine." he answered. "But just this once, okay? I'm afraid I'll become pregnant if I sit on your couch for longer than five minutes."
Joe stuck his tongue through his teeth. "Don't worry, bud. I'll make sure to wrap it up tight just for you ."
"You don't strike me as a beer guy, Henry." Vito cut into the perversion. "I thought you were a fuckin' wine snob."
"I don't turn down free drinks." Henry retorted. "Besides, I almost died today. Again . For every near-death experience, I get a beer. Don't act surprised."
"It's not the beer I'm surprised about," Joe chuckled, "it's the fact you're okay with hangin' around my dirty 'fuck-shack.' Leon came around to it a lot quicker than you."
"I've slept in much worse conditions." Leon replied. "After my noble days were over, I realized that life did not hold such riches for me anymore."
"I'll be sure to get a nice haystack for you to crash on." Joe chuckled.
"I appreciate it." the vampire hunter thanked with sarcasm. "Now, does this haystack come with a complementary dead rat?"
"What if it doesn't?" Joe cracked, glancing at him through the mirror with a challenging gleam in his eyes.
"If it doesn't," Leon crossed his arms, turning up his chin in a highbrow manner, "then I won't be returning to your simplistic inn for a second night! I will inform the village of the host's incompetence, as well."
"I can't wait to read your two-out-of-five star review in the fuckin' papers tomorrow, Your Majesty," Joe guffawed. Vito and Henry couldn't contain their chuckles at the exchange between the two.
"Hold on, now," Leon paused, "I'm not cruel . Based on your ranking system, I would at least give your home a third star. The drinks are kept cold, and the showers are nice and hot."
"I know how you love your showers," Joe butted in, a giggle behind his words. "A three-star is still kinda eh . You think you could at least throw in a half-star?"
"Take it or leave it, Joe," Henry laughed, "your place is no Empire Arms. A three-star rating is fuckin' impressive for what you have."
"The only other thing I would change," Leon proceeded, "are the pink bird ornaments. Your guests shouldn't have to wake up to an artificial creature looming over them!"
"You wanna know somethin'?" Joe peaked up at him through the mirror again, before straightening his sights to the road. "When we brought you back to my place - shortly after Vito here almost burst you open like a ketchup packet - I put the flamingo over your unconscious body on purpose just to see what would happen."
"Joe and I even made a bet," Vito grinned, "to see if you would wake up or not. The flamingo was the constant variable to our hypothesis."
"If you knocked it over, it meant you weren't dead." Joe explained with a wide smile on his face. "If you didn't, well- you know."
Leon shook his head, aghast that Joe and Vito would play such a prank on him, nonetheless make a game out of it. Previously he would have been outraged by such a gesture, but he came to accept this type of humor from the men.
"I have to ask - who chose which outcome?" there was almost a twinge of regret in the hunter's voice in asking this childish question.
Joe cackled. "Vito was the one here who bet that you would croak before we even got you through the door."
"Oh yeah," Vito chortled, "I thought you were roadkill at that point. I guess not, huh?"
"How does it feel to fuckin' lose, you cocky prick?" Joe nudged Vito with his elbow, somehow still keeping the vehicle straightened out.
"One more thing," Leon creased his brow with feigned offense, "how much was the bet placed for?"
"Five bucks!" Vito and Joe unanimously answered in completely contradicting tones; Joe with confidence, and Vito with dejection.
It felt like no time had passed once the men arrived at Joe's apartment. The four went up the staircase in their own unique way; Joe made an attempt to race his friends upward, only to become winded once he reached the top. Vito walked right behind, pacing himself only to sprint to Joe's unit once passing his exhausted friend.
"You fucker!" Joe ran after Vito in a breathless manner, making a pathetic attempt to catch up with him.
"Last one in the Joezone layer gets the warmest beer!" Vito shouted from the end of the hallway.
Henry rolled his eyes, keeping his whatever dignity he had afloat as he walked along the decrepit halls to his friend's notoriously debauched abode. Leon followed after, looking around to make sure the grouchy housekeeper wasn't nearby to chew their heads off about mail or discarded contraception.
Once the two had caught up with Vito and Joe, they witnessed the last three seconds of the two friends struggling against each other by the door. They seemed to fight over the doorknob before shoving one another inside, grunting and cussing like two teens sparring. The sound of thundering footsteps could be heard as they tumbled towards the kitchen for the beer.
Henry glanced at Leon with humor in his features. "I swear, these two are a couple of fuckin' morons." The older gentleman was making a hard attempt not to snicker at his colleagues' ironic immaturity.
"But alas," Leon grinned, "they're your morons."
Even after being thrown off by Leon's remark, Henry decided not to contest. After a moment in thought, he replied with a deadpan voice, "Yup; my own personal morons."
Effortlessly pushing through the ajar entrance, they each held their breaths simultaneously before breaking through the second doorway of odor. Leon pressed the door shut before he heard a click, and turned the deadbolt to keep out unwanted guests. Henry made his way through the apartment, trying not to let his eyes set on any of Joe's belongings or nuances. He looked over in the corner to see a three-set of lawn flamingos, one with a large dent on its beak. Vito and Joe could be heard chatting in the next room over.
"I think your bottle was fuller than mine." Joe started, trying to reach for Vito's drink. "Can we trade?"
"Fuck no!" Vito shot back, pulling his arm away. "This is mine ! Keep your mitts off my beer, Barbaro!"
Henry entered the kitchen with Leon behind him. Vito and Joe looked to the two, Joe perking up at the timely presence of his friends. He had two freshly open beers on the countertop for the two of them. He opened two Stallion beers, not knowing where Henry's taste lied, and just went with Leon's favorite.
Leon snatched up his beer, bringing it to his lips before tipping the bottom up. He leaned his back against the countertop between Vito and Joe, casually blocking Joe from accessing Vito's beverage. Henry gingerly brought his drink into his hands, and sipped at it, forehead creased. He wasn't a fan of the flavor, and coughed after his first sip.
"How's that victory beer?" Joe teased. "Too strong for ya?"
Henry smacked his lips, looking down at the beer with contempt. "Tastes like bread dipped in sink water."
"That's why you chug it, Henry!" Joe slapped his older friend on the bicep playfully. "This isn't a fucking vineyard, there's no need to sip it for the flavor - just knock it back and enjoy your fuckin' night."
Henry glanced at Leon, who was doing just that. Taking it away from his lips finally, he released a satisfied sigh while staring proudly at the lowered meniscus. The amount had already dropped down to the halfway point.
"This one gets it!" Joe pointed at Leon with his thumb. "C'mon, Henry. Chug the bread-water like there's no tomorrow!"
Henry gulped, looking down at his beer before glancing over at his friends. Vito stood off to the side, clutching his beverage while staring at Henry with an anticipated grin. Joe was waving his hands around in a "come on already" gesture. Leon gave him a reassuring smile while raising his beer in the air as a toast. After drawing a sharp inhale, Henry tipped the bottle back against his lips, swallowing down his beer one hefty gulp at a time, the carbonation filling his stomach and causing his esophagus to swell. His eyes were shut tight as he fought through the slightly skunky flavor, the lump in his throat bobbing up and down with each swallow. He held his breath to keep himself from inhaling through his nose, as that would strengthen the taste he was trying to avoid. The aroma wasn't pleasant either.
After moments of swigging this liquid, he gradually took the glass rim away from his lips, his eyes meeting with the others. The kitchen erupted in applause as Joe walked over and slammed his hand against his back several times.
"You're getting the hang of it!" Joe encouraged him, continuing the rough pats. "I'm proud of ya, bud!"
Henry winced each time Joe struck his palm between his shoulder blades. "Joe, that's enou-"
Joe didn't stop in time, and soon the three men shot their glances towards Henry as he released a thunderous belch that echoed through the entire kitchen. There was a moment of silent hilarity as Henry hunched over to place his hand over his mouth. Sheer embarrassment filled the older man's body as his serious demeanor had been fractured by a single burp.
"Fuckin' NICE!" Joe applauded again, congratulating a visibly flustered Henry, whose hand was still clamped over his mouth. The gentleman's face was reddening with small beads of humidity forming just below his hairline. The warmth from his humiliation coupled with the alcohol in his vessels caused the mobster's overall body temperature to rise.
"I think the neighbors heard that one." Vito laughed, taking the beer to his own lips this time. He noticed how Henry was still frozen in this unexpected moment of bewilderment, and sighed. "Jesus, Henry, unclench your asscheeks, will ya?"
Henry took his hand away from his lips. " This is why I don't drink beer." His voice was still cramped as he failed to release himself from social pressures.
Leon glanced down at his bottle of beer, and then to Henry's. He noticed a clear discrepancy with the amount left in their receptacles.
"I suppose I have to catch up." the hunter noted, before taking in the rest of what was in his bottle. He sat the empty container on the countertop, motioning past Joe to grab another one out of the refrigerator.
"Help yourself," Joe stated, "there's plenty. How's about we chill in the living room and listen to these new records I got? Dean Martin's Greatest Hits is one of them - how about that? All these singers are putting out their 'greatest hits' albums already. Where did the fuckin' decade go?"
"Where did the last eight and half centuries go?" Leon joked, cracking open a fresh beer while laughing maniacally at his own circumstances.
"It's good to see you relaxing about this whole thing." Vito noticed with an air of pride for his new colleague. "What you're going through can't be easy."
"Survival lies in making light of even the darkest times." Leon shrugged. "Sinking into one's own fear means nothing would get accomplished. Bravery and humor surpasses all hardship."
Vito reminisced. "It seemed like just yesterday, you almost put a hole through Joe's flamingo after finding out you're in the future."
"And then I almost put a hole through you." Joe finished Vito's observation, staring directly at Leon, hoping the hunter wouldn't take offense to their attempt at roasting him.
Leon appeared pensive. "That was two days ago."
"I know ." Vito rolled his eyes towards the way Leon took his observation literally. "I'm just saying - you've come around really fast in the last forty-eight hours."
Their conversation was interrupted with Joe tossing the new Dean Martin album onto the record player. He set the needle over the grooves of the vinyl, allowing it to glide along, sending wavelengths through the metallic speakers. Dean Martin's buttery voice backed with even-tempered jazz tones filled the very room around these men.
Leon stared down at the spinning record, momentarily hypnotized by the object's fluid movement. Upon fixing his attention on the machine, he ultimately drowned out the voices from his other colleagues. Mindlessly, he brought down the level of beer that sat within its glass confines, consuming only one-third of the liquid this time around.
Henry couldn't help but stare at the younger man as he eyed this new piece of technology, a warm smile creeping onto his lips. He realized what he'd been doing, and peeled his eyes away from the other. Giving himself away to his friends was the last thing he wanted to do.
The vampire hunter's mind went elsewhere, but he soon snapped back into the circle of conversation, cutting off the men mid-subject. "Say, Joe…"
"What's up, bud?" the huskier male averted his gaze back to the younger man in the group.
"You never told me what condoms are." the hunter began, plucking a random subject from thin air before consuming more of his beverage. With this one statement, Leon brought upon himself an entire smorgasbord of information and sexual nuances he didn't even know were possible.
The conversation developed further, Joe having gone off on a tangent about his sex life. Vito doubted some of his stories, and so did Henry, but Leon tried not to listen too intently. He busied himself at certain points by picking at the corner of his beer label, a visible sign of discomfort.
"Hey, fellas." Henry interrupted, also feeling the same way. "How about we change the fuckin' subject here?"
" Or ," Joe smart-mouthed, "why don't we change the subject to fuckin' ?"
Vito tittered at his friend's comeback, especially when he saw the tired look of defeat smeared across Henry's features. Leon controlled his own chuckling while trying not to enable Joe's filthy statements even further. He continued to drink, the minutes phasing away as the night continued.
Leon's eyes fell on the formation of their talk circle, acknowledging the location and manner in which they all sat. The hunter melted himself into the sofa, not caring about the implication of sex-borne parasites in the fabric. Henry sat beside him, but had put down a quilt before being seated so as to not defile his threads. Joe sat cross-legged on the floor with only a pillow cushioning his bottom, giving Vito access to the armchair.
Out of nowhere, it seemed, Vito's voice had cut into Leon's daydreaming. He dropped a specific question that the drunken hunter hadn't prepared a response for.
"So, Leon." Vito started, bringing up a small bit of dialogue from earlier that day. "I remember you sayin' something earlier about being in the clergy. Were you a knight?"
"Yes, but," Leon answered, "as stated previously, I gave up my title."
"Yeah, to save your fiancé and all that," Vito reiterated, "but… what were you even doing as a knight?"
"I was taken in by the clergy when I was just out of infanthood," Leon explained, "according to the elders and higher appointees of the church. My birth parents had died in a roaring fire, one so big that it attracted the attention of passing clergymen. They proceeded into the dangerous area, trudging through the flames and embers just to pull me from the ashes."
Vito cut in with narrowing eyes, "They raised you to be a knight after that?"
"In my earlier years," Leon clarified, "before the age of seven, I was just a simple altar boy. I sang with the children's choir, studied the bible every day, and contributed to the upkeep of the chapel."
"When did they start training you?" Vito crossed his arms, digging deeper into Leon's story, details dating back to when he was more impressionable. Joe and Henry looked to Vito with apprehension in their gazes.
Leon tilted his head downwards. "Something happened to me once I turned seven. My mind… it keeps blocking out the event for some strange reason. I can't force myself to remember, and each time I try, it feels like I'm leaning into the abyss. At this time, the event is better off forgotten."
His third beer of the night sat within his grasp. Not questioning when he'd gotten up to get this beverage, the hunter tipped the bottle back against his lips, a thousand-yard stare burning holes through Joe's wallpaper. Joe and Henry looked to each other with concern, but Vito kept his gaze fixed on Leon. Heavy interest filled him with each passing bit of information.
Leon pulled the beer away from his lips, using both relaxed hands to hold the bottle between his thighs again. "Before the age of eight, I had already begun picking up and swinging a wooden dummy sword. It was until he stepped in as my mentor to teach me the ways of intelligent combat."
"And who would that be?" Vito asked. "Was it Dracula?"
"I know you're most likely joking," Leon answered, "but this, in fact, is Dracula I'm referring to. He went by a different name at the time, but that name is dead to my vocabulary, just like our companionship."
"Dracula was in the clergy." Vito nodded, surprised at this new fact. "Who would'a thought?"
"Ironically," Leon added, delving into his bittersweet memories, "Dracula started out as a tactician within the clergy, acting as a battle planner in our conquest. I never knew the love of two parents, but having the appreciation and guidance of this older, wiser gentleman brought me into adulthood with much reassurance."
"When did you start seeing action?" Vito cut right to the chase.
"I was sixteen when I was promoted to knighthood." Leon peered up at the overhead ceiling lamp, watching a small gnat knock itself around against the glass surface. "When he wasn't training me to be the backbone of the church's army, his face was hidden behind a slate of parchment, scrawling out the crusade's perfect path to reclaiming the holy land."
"The holy land?" Vito's eyebrows creased inwards, his tone shifting in disbelief. "You talkin' about Jerusalem?"
Leon gave a proud nod, his attitude changing. "Needless to say, we captured Jerusalem after seven weeks of toil and bloodshed. Although, Pope Urban II was far from appreciative when it came to leading a faction of his army towards victory. He showed his 'gratitude' by disallowing the rescue of Sara from the clutches of a vampire, and stated such an action would be taking too much attention off of our current fight. That's when I knew I had to leave it all behind for a life of true heroism."
"How'd they react when you put in your notice?" Vito tilted his head curiously.
Leon felt his chest tighten, sadness spilling into his features. "I was excommunicated." In those three words, he took in the last of his third drink, the pleasant dizziness overthrowing him.
"Good." Vito scoffed. "After being turned into a war machine to kill a bunch of innocent people, you should be happy you got out that fast."
"The pope ordered these killings." Leon sighed, discontent with Vito's accusations. "As knights of the church, we had to oblige. In being God's children, accomplishing our deposition of Jerusalem meant eternal paradise in heaven for all of us."
"Do you really believe that?" Vito's tone darkened. "Do you really believe that you're gonna be first in line to heaven with your accomplishments ?"
Joe darted his expression over to his friend with worry, not knowing where Vito was going with this conversation. "I think you should take it back a bit," Joe warned him. "That kind of talk can start a big mess, you know."
"Ending the conquest with shining victory after weeks of fighting filled me with immense glory." Leon inhaled as Vito purposefully swept the floor with his own biases. "It felt as though I chased these divine promises up the side of a steep hill to meet my goals at the very top. Our paramount mission was concluded with Jerusalem's capture for the church and in the name of God."
"And how did you feel when it was over?" Vito's tone was hushed and ominous. The threat of conflict loomed over the group, Joe and Henry being the only ones to sense it.
"Amazing." Leon's face brightened with his answer. "Eternal paradise in the afterlife was finally within my hands! Before, during, and after my time in battle, I had even courted Sara, who would then become my bride."
"Every soldier's wet dream." Vito feigned agreement as his true feelings shone through dilated pupils. "You kick ass in the war, you come home, and you get the girl in the end. Roll credits."
Leon proceeded onward, disregarding Vito's cut-off. "I had loving arms to return to once my purpose had been fulfilled. I was content and comfortable in accordance with my supposed future. It was expected that Sara and I would eventually produce kindred, ones who I would then pass my legacy down to. The legacy of a champion."
"You must think you're God's favorite little soldier now, huh?" Vito shook his head, and stopped Leon in the middle of his reminiscing with heavy contempt in his laugh. "Well, congratu- fuckin' -lations; you've won the title of the big cheese ."
"Vito, watch it…" Henry mumbled, hoping his faint voice would fall upon the other man's ears.
"Funny," Vito sneered, "I never thought I would be sitting in the same room as a fuckin' champion of the holy war !"
"Why, thank you." Leon replied, the sarcasm going right over his head.
"I was kidding." Vito's tone turned sharp. "Go fuck yourself."
The conversation had immediately derailed, prompting the two battle-worn men to spark a heated debate among one another. Joe and Henry were behind a metaphorical wall at this point, unable to penetrate the iron-clad conflict that spurred before them.
"The most important years of my life were dedicated to the crusades." Leon defended himself, not giving a second thought to Vito's disdain. "These knights raised me, taught me everything I know to this day about battle strategy and defense. My self-reliance and ability to protect myself in any situation came from years of fighting alongside other warriors. We were heroes!"
"Heroes...? HEROES...?" Vito grit his teeth with disbelief, leaning forward in the armchair with indignation. " You are NOT a fucking hero!"
"Vito, take it easy!" Joe attempted to step in. "Why don't we just step back and cool off for a minute, yeah?"
"I'll tell you what a hero does!" Vito ignored Joe, his aggression increasing. "A hero trudges through concentration camps, rescuing starved, dying prisoners - who, bear in mind, did NOTHING wrong - while a megalomaniac dictator calls upon armies to massacre and dehumanize them just for existing!"
"Are you comparing the Pope to that of a bloodthirsty overlord!? I'll have you know, these people were heretics!" Leon boldly made this venomous claim in regards to the natives of Jerusalem. "They were keeping the land of God away from His true children-"
Vito cut his sentence short. "What made you think that you could decide that for an entire race of people? God's true children - pssht! - what a load of narcissistic bullshit."
"Vito!" Joe was practically silenced between the tempers of two war-torn individuals in this intense collision of culture and virtue. Leon attempted to speak again, but Vito was the first to project more anger onto him.
"Pope Urban II was a piece of shit," Vito boldly acknowledged, "and he should be treated that way."
"Now you listen-" Leon tried to cut in, but his words were verbally trampled once again.
"That dictator over in Germany," Vito lectured, "who we, the Allied Powers, defeated within the last decade , was SUPPORTED by several churches and priests! This type of support meant that society would begin rallying behind him to the point where he was able to make three reichs happen. That's right! Three fuckin' events in a period of four years where people of differing backgrounds lost their lives to some fucking empty conquest - just like your god damn crusades."
"The crusade's conquest was not EMPTY!" Leon stood from the sofa, Vito performing the same gesture. The two appeared to stand as opponents ready to face off over the meaning of heroism. Joe tried sandwiching himself between the two again, but the magnetic force of their rage was too potent for him.
"That's it!" Joe shouted, his voice breaking. "Both of you need to sit the fuck down!"
"We fought for GOD." Leon spouted off. "What have you fought for?"
"Freedom!" Vito shouted in his face, flecks of saliva landing on his flushed skin. "I fought for fuckin' FREEDOM. I fought for my freedom, Joe's freedom, Henry's freedom. Hell, I fought for YOUR freedom to sit around and talk shit about how much of a fuckin' saint you were, when it's clear that you were just a fuckin' meat puppet!"
"Excuse me!?" Leon's voice broke with shock. "How dare you impose these toxic assumptions about me! You and I are one in the same!"
"No!" Vito denied. "I was a war hero. You are just a psycho who won't admit that what he did was an act of fucking GENOCIDE. I'll bet it was the First fuckin' Crusades that birthed all this hatred for other cultures, the fucking domino effect it had on generations to come."
"We won…" Leon's dejection thickened with each scathing word tossed his way. His voice began to tremble as he was unable to further find a way to defend his own honor. "That's all that matters. That's all that'll ever matter…"
"You didn't win, asshole." Vito inched closer. "All you did was cause more damage to happen in the wake of the church's war. So I hope you're fuckin' proud of yourself, oh glorious knight of the fuckin' Round Table."
"Vito, I'm fuckin' warning you!" Joe growled, trying to shove his friend away from an upset Leon. Henry sat in extreme discomfort, not knowing what to physically do with himself except watch the vicious debate unfold before him with a stale breath trapped in his lungs. The beer bottle released heavy beads of moisture as the temperature of the liquid rose within Henry's nervous grasp.
"Six million people died in the Holocaust, by the way!" Vito finished, his voice growing gravelly every time he shouted, "That's right; Six. Fucking Million. Yet you don't seem to care about anything besides your magical getaway' to heaven. Newsflash! You're no better than the Nazis who threw people into camps and shot American soldiers! In fact-" Vito's face was less than an inch from Leon's. "-you're no better than fuckin' Dracula ."
On that last note, Joe shoved Vito aside before finally striking him across the face. Vito stumbled backwards, his heels catching against the bottom of the armchair. He fell into conveniently-placed furniture, clutching his face not out of pain, but sheer dismay. Leon stifled a gasp at the sound of Joe's hand colliding with Vito, his body solidifying in horror. Henry arose from his spot on the sofa, ready to interfere when needed. They noticed Joe's shoulders rising and falling heavily while Vito rubbed the newly reddened area around his jaw.
"What… the FUCK, Joe!?" Vito cursed, staring up vengefully at his friend. "You just slapped me like a bitch!"
"I didn't wanna do that, Vito!" Joe huffed. "But you just wouldn't shut up. I wanted a night where I could have fun with my friends! All I wanted was to drink beer, listen to music, and talk about all the fun we have. I want us all to get along! FUCK! Is that so fuckin' hard to ask for!?"
Vito released a heavy sigh, his eyes darting towards Leon. The hunter's hands were still clasped firmly over his mouth, eyes welling with regret. No longer was he angry with Vito, but rather trapped in an invisible cloud of heavy dissonance.
"Henry almost fuckin' died today!" Joe cried out, Vito's sights returning to him immediately. "Leon swooped in and saved his life! He had the guts to go over my head to make sure one of our guys was safe, and you're bitching at him about something he can't fuckin' change? You're really gonna sit on your ass and tell him he's not a hero, when he just did something heroic TODAY!?"
"That doesn't erase the years of turmoil he caused." Vito spoke through gnashed teeth.
"Our friend isn't a fucking Nazi!" Joe's voice cracked with emotion. "You owe him a fuckin' apology for that. Right fuckin' now!"
"Six… million?" Leon lowered himself back onto the sofa, his expression falling, eyes leaking. That number bounced off the inner walls of his mind as the alcohol simmered in his bloodstream. This caused him to not only experience anger with great intensity, but shame and sadness as well. "Is… is this the crusade's legacy…?"
"Okay, fine, you're not a Nazi," Vito scoffed, not able to ignore the other man's tears, "but don't act like a victim, either. You're a dirty human like the rest of us, not some fuckin' angel."
"...I can't believe this…" Leon wept, the intoxication and existential crisis mixing into one turgid reaction. "...all of those years spent on a lie …?"
"Vito, god damn it!" Joe swore at his friend. "Look what you did!"
"He had to learn the fuckin' truth sometime!" Vito raised himself from the armchair once more. "Holy knights were just a bunch of bastards!"
Joe slammed both his hands against his face in a frustrated manner. Vito abruptly stood from the armchair and stormed towards the exit but not before turning back to give his final piece. "I accepted my one-way ticket to Hell a long time ago, it's time for you to do the same."
With that, the front door slammed, causing Joe's furniture to tremble. Once again, the framed photo of Vito and Joe toppled over the mantle and face down onto the floor, causing more glass pieces to scatter across the immediate area. Joe turned around hurriedly to collect the picture with a small sniffle. With slumped shoulders and a heavy posture, he went to the kitchen to put the photo in a place where it wouldn't fall again.
"Leon…" Henry sat back down, ready to comfort the man who had just been given the biggest reality check of his life. The realization set in that this web of friendship had become strained from just one topic, leaving Henry clueless as to how he could address these social wounds.
The hunter's high sense of pride had fallen deep into a pit of extreme self-loathing. All these years, he lived with illusions of grandeur, believing he was the hero of his story, and that his missions were for the purpose of obtaining holy dignity. Now, he had learned that it was all a lie. Leon shut his eyes and placed his face in his hands in a gesture of defeat, soft sobs muffled by his palms.
Joe returned to the living room, not glancing their way. All it took was hearing Leon cry, to the point where he clenched his fists and stormed from his own apartment.
"Vito!" he roared after his angered friend, "Get the hell back here and talk to us like a man! " The door slammed once more upon Joe's exit. Angry exchanges could be heard in the hallway, albeit the words were suppressed with distance.
Now it was just Henry and Leon in Joe's apartment, sitting within the stale silence of an abrupt argument. Henry turned to see Leon, quickly thinking of a way to comfort him. Consolation was something he was unfamiliar with giving, but dug within himself to bring forth some kind of reprieve for the younger man.
"Hey, Leon… hey, look at me." Henry spoke softly, caressing Leon's quaking shoulders. "Just… turn and look at me… please."
The younger man lifted his head from his sodden hands, his blond locks sticking to his tear-stricken face. "Six million people, Henry? Did the crusades really inspire the death of six million innocent people?"
"No, some crazy fuck with a square mustache did." Henry clarified, rubbing the other's. "You didn't know any better. You said it yourself, you were just a fuckin' baby when the crusades picked you up. So the church tried to turn you into a tool for their empire; that's not your fuckin' fault, okay? All you can do now is make up for it."
Leon took a sharp, shaken breath to focus his swollen hues at a sincere-looking Henry. "I'm a monster," he choked.
"Hey, no." Henry wrapped his arms around his friend, squeezing him tightly. "You're just a person who got pulled into a shitty situation. We've all been there. You got out of it when you could, and I'm proud of you for that."
"I'm so disappointed in myself," Leon fell into Henry's grasp. He nuzzled his face into his chest, comforted by the man's silken tie brushing against his cheek. "I can't believe I didn't see it sooner… I could have done more. I could have done better ."
"You can do that now ." Henry stroked the other's curled locks, his voice softening. "You have so many years left in your life, and those years can be spent doing good things for other people."
The two sat momentarily in that position, Leon shaking violently in the other's hold. Henry couldn't bear him crying, so he did everything he could to help it subside. He rubbed his back in circles, not loosening his embrace until Leon's trembling breaths had weakened.
Leon stayed cocooned in the hug, sniffling and wiping the heavy tears from his bloodshot eyes. "You really think Vito's gonna forgive me? He seemed so mad…"
"It's okay. It'll all be okay." Henry murmured, pressing his lips softly against the top of the younger man's head. "Joe's gonna talk to Vito, and hopefully you two can work everything out."
"I didn't know he would get mad like that," Leon grieved, "Vito doesn't come across as that kind of person. I don't understand why he exploded in such a manner…"
"Us Sicilians," Henry excused, "get really passionate about things we're into. Things we've experienced. Things we love and have lost. I mean, the same can't be said of all Sicilians, but from my experience, I think it's mostly true."
"So, he's angry…" Leon started, looking more puzzled than sad, "...because he's from Sicily?" He withdrew calmly from Henry's loosened embrace just to look at him with the inquiry.
"What? No! No, that's not it." Henry laughed, taking delight in Leon's gullibility. "It's just that war is a very touchy subject for someone like Vito. There was this time he got into a heated argument with a World War I veteran about the best heavy artillery in the force. This older vet, who was around when Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, called paratroopers a bunch of 'sky pussies.' Vito almost cracked him over the head with an empty fuckin' liquor bottle. Come to think of it, he gets angrier when he's drunk, too."
Leon was taken aback by the story, but smiled in a relieved manner at Henry's expression of comfort. He blinked the tears away from his eyes, and gave Henry his own hug, wrapping his arms around the other's shoulders.
"Thank you for understanding, Henry. I feel…" Leon took a deep breath, expelling the negative tension in his body. "I feel a lot better now…"
He still felt a gnarl in his soul, like someone had bitten out a source of his energy. The intense emotional discomfort left him feeling exhausted and dissociative. Henry returned the hug with no hesitation, his hands travelling up and down Leon's back in a comforting fashion, but also as a means to feel part of his body beneath his clothes. He limited his physical affection to not come off as perverted, but felt immense happiness that he was permitted to be this close to the younger man.
Henry smiled before pulling himself away to speak. "You should go splash yourself with cold water. It'll reset your vagus nerve and calm you down." He lifted his thumb to Leon's cheek, wiping away a massive tear that had been working its way down his face. "Grab another beer if you want. I'll be right here when you come back."
Leon nodded obediently before he peeled himself from the sofa. He turned his back to enter the kitchen, approaching the wide metallic sink in all his lonesome. The hunter began washing away his upsetment with frigid water, his face scrunching with discomfort as the temperature shocked him. He continued on, despite the frigidity numbing his facial muscles; he didn't stop until his breaths were steady once more.
After he was finished, he looked over to the refrigerator with contemplation. Leon raised his hand to open the refrigerator door, but paused to see a strange object sitting atop the appliance.
"What the…?" Leon stood on his toes to reach for this object. When he picked it up for inspection, his lips parted to take in a small gasp.
The object he had originally caused to fall was that photo of Vito and Joe. This captured the moment of two friends standing together with clear brotherly appreciation for the other. Upon this second inspection, Leon was able to notice Vito's army fatigues with added clarity, not paying mind to the haggard, visibly intoxicated Joe Barbaro standing off to the side. The vampire hunter scoured Vito's uniform, acknowledging the several neatly folded ribbons set in place against his chest with metallic emblems. Regardless of the rewards displayed on the soldier's torso, Leon couldn't help but notice Vito's humble demeanor in the printed capture. The hunter didn't sense pride in his features, but rather the look of great undertaking. Even through the low-quality grain of the printed paper, Leon could see just how burdened Vito was by the weight of war.
"I hope whoever took this photo had a better night with these two." Leon sighed, his eyes focusing on the dilapidated reflection of himself in the broken glass. Self-resentment crept in, prompting him to place the photo back upon the refrigerator. The younger man proceeded towards the living room, sadness still lingering.
Henry looked towards him with concern, but noticed how his side-swept bangs had been doused with the water as well. He looked relieved, knowing the other was pacified. "Do you feel better?"
"Hardly…" Leon sighed, slumping into the couch. "I don't feel so good… could we go back to your hotel soon?"
"Of course." Henry looked down, wondering how the hell he was going to fix this. "I'm gonna wait for those two to get back, see if anything's changed. 'Til then, let your mind go elsewhere for a little while." His hand met the hunter's back once more, tracing medium-size circles in a soothing rotation.
It was then, they heard a door open and shut, followed by two sets of footsteps. They turned to see Joe walk into the living room with a more lulled Vito at his side. Upon Vito's entrance into the apartment, the atmosphere thickened with doubt yet again.
"Vito, I…" Leon choked, not wanting the other to think he was resentful.
"Don't need it." Vito avoided eye contact and slumped into the armchair, knowing exactly what Leon was about to say next. "Apologies don't fix much."
Joe shook his head, fed up with his friend's coldness. "Just drink your fuckin' beer, Vito. You've done enough talking for one night."
Leon released a defeated sigh, allowing Vito's harsh nature to deflect off of him. He turned to the other man. "Joe… if you don't want me here anymore, I understand. I think I've caused you two enough trouble for one lifetime. I think I should see myself out, now."
"Come on, now!" Joe laughed. "You're ain't the worst houseguest I've ever had. I enjoy havin' you around. You crack me up, bud. Really, you ain't half bad! You don't need to kick yourself out because of a fuckin' argument."
"I appreciate it, really." Leon's eyes shifted the other way. "But I don't feel right being here tonight. Nothing against either of you."
"No hard feelings." Joe scratched the back of his head. "I'll see you around, then?"
"Sure." Leon shrugged. "I'll see you around…" He glanced at Henry, his confidence visibly sunken. The young man turned to see himself out, Henry following close behind.
"Drive safe with that precious cargo, Henry." Joe teased. The older man nodded graciously to his husky apprentice, and soon the two had disappeared into the night.
Joe scratched the back of his head and turned to switch off his record player. Without exchanging a single word with a remaining Vito, he stepped into his undergarments, ate a sandwich, then proceeded to turn off the lights and slide into bed. Vito, understanding the queue, finished his beer and walked out of his best friend's home with a twinge of rejection spiking in his chest.